Who You've Been Kissing
by Empress Shiloh
Summary: When you open your eyes, whose face do you expect to see? Missing moments from 1/8 "Mash-Up". Rated for language and sexual content.
1. I can't do this

A/N: My first ever Glee fic! It was inspired by re-watching season one and reading copious amounts of Puckleberry fanfic. After being recruited to the ship and thinking through the show, I am convinced Rachel and Puck belong together. However, the angst of their love for Finn and Quinn during season one cannot be ignored, thus this. These are the missing moments during their make-out session in Rachel's room. I hope you enjoy it, and I would love to hear what you think, so please review!

~Shiloh

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><p>"My ears hurt – can we take a break?"<p>

"Sure."

Without a pause he posed his next question – the real reason he was here, in Rachel Berry's bedroom, on a Tuesday afternoon missing football practice to listen to her sing into her hairbrush.

"Want to make out?" His eyes followed the hand smoothing her skirt against her tanned thigh and he missed the nervous look in her eyes, the quick glance to the right and tiny shrug as she answered.

"Sure."

He smiled at her and her answering smile was small and nervous, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and watched him. Lifting the strap off of his shoulder, Puck gently laid his guitar on the floor. Rachel was still standing across the room by her dresser, her hand playing with the hem of her skirt, twisting it between her fingers. Puck watched her for a moment, a smug, knowing smirk on his lips. He knew she was nervous, knew she'd never been involved with someone like him before. Noah Puckerman was a star football player and king of the school – he dated cheerleaders and was experienced in bed. He had casual sex with Santana and never had trouble getting girls to go out with him. Rachel was anything but his typical girl.

"C'mere." She stood straight, pushing herself away from the dresser she'd been unconsciously pressing herself against. A fit, hot boy was sitting on the edge of her bed looking at her with what she could only term as bedroom eyes. She'd known Puck all her life; they'd grown up together and in Lima you just didn't not know everyone. But they'd never been friends. Until this year, until Glee Club, she wasn't sure they'd ever said more than ten words to each other that didn't relate to a class project they were thrown together on. In fact – she was very sure of it. This was the boy who threw slushies in her face and taunted her when he bothered to notice her. He called her Berry and mocked her wardrobe. To say this was unfamiliar territory for her would be an understatement.

Rachel took one slow step towards him and then another. She hoped the look on her face was seductive and teasing, but she was almost certain it was actually frightened and unsure. It wasn't that she'd never kissed or been kissed before, because she had – it had just never been anyone quite like Puck. There had been Kyle Underhill in eighth grade at their graduation party, a dry, innocent kiss they had never spoken of again. Then Henry Garret – the captain of the Math Club who she'd dated for three months last year. After Henry was Ben Lukasik, also a member of the Math Club, who she had dumped after two weeks. At the end of the school year she'd had a brief relationship with Jacob Reed, a shy boy in her English class but he'd proved too weak to withstand her high maintenance, goal oriented lifestyle. But Puck? He was way out of her league.

He scooted further onto her bed and reached out to her, placing his hands on her hips and pulling her between her legs. Wondering how he'd ever managed this, Puck looked up at her with all his charm oozing. He'd never been anywhere near a girl like Rachel Berry. 4.0 virgin on the fast track to Broadway wasn't exactly his usual type. 2.0 slut with a shot at being a rich man's widow someday maybe. Hell, he didn't even know if Rachel had ever been kissed before – probably not. After all, she just wasn't in his league. He had his first kiss in fifth grade: Layla Bennett behind her parent's garage during her birthday party. In the summer after eighth grade he lost his virginity to a girl two years older. Since then he'd dated nearly every cheerleader on the squad, some for as long as two weeks. He and Santana Lopez had an on-again, off-again relationship and she was always giving out benefits no matter what. He'd even scored with Quinn Fabray, his best friend's girl friend.

Honey blonde hair, soft blue eyes, and the sweetest lips he'd ever tasted. She was wine and honey in bed – all innocence and sexy confidence at the same time. He'd never forget her – the one girl he couldn't get out of his head. His hands on her hips, pulling her down for a kiss, that alluring smile playing at the corner of her mouth...

Except her eyes were brown, her hair was mahogany, and she was staring down at him as if he were going to devour her. Shaking off any thoughts of anyone else, he thought he just might do that, if she'd let him. He was one hot motherfucking badass and Rachel Berry was about to get a taste of the best fruit she'd ever have. Any doubt clouding his eyes cleared and he reached up to curl one hand around her neck and pulled her down towards him. She came easily, her chocolate eyes sliding closed and her lips parting with a sigh as he gave her that first, soft kiss.

Yeah, he was a badass, but he knew how to seduce a girl all right. Santana might like it fast and hard but Rachel was new to this and needed coaxed if he expected this to go anywhere. She was hesitant at first, but he felt her lean in and her hands curled around behind his neck, her thumbs pressing under his ears as the kiss grew deeper. They kept kissing in this position for a minute then he slowly slid one hand down her thigh to hook behind her knee and draw it up onto the bed. It took her a moment to get the hint, but then she was straddling him, her knees beside his hips, sitting on his lap. His strong hands gripped her hips with a twist he half stood and then she was under him and they were lying on the bed.

She let out a soft gasp and Puck thought maybe it was the hottest thing he'd ever heard – thoughts of anyone else were long gone now. Rachel was a hot piece and he hadn't been expecting it. Her arm hooked around his neck and the other pressed against the back of his head, holding his lips against hers. He kind of liked the feeling of her fingers in his short hair. However, when his hand moved from her waist toward her chest, the hand on his head moved down to stop him and he pulled back.

"No – no." She said breathlessly. Her eyes were glassy and he thought that if he really pushed her she would either pull away for good or give in – but he suspected the former. After a moment he shrugged and they rolled over so that she was on top of him.

His hands caressed her back and Rachel thought she had never felt anything so wonderful. Warm, strong, his hands were the hands of someone who knew what physical labor was and the hands of someone who knew what they were doing. His touch was sending tingles up her spine and making her warm in places she had never felt such heat before. Her thoughts were all focused on the feel of his surprisingly soft lips against her own and he points of pressure his fingers made running up and down her back. Her world had narrowed to sensation and desire and nothing else invaded her mind.

Eyes closed she still pictured his face in her mind. The messy brown hair that never lay just right, the eyebrows that always rose slightly when he kissed her, the smooth skin with just a hint of fuzz along his jaw where, before long, he would have to regularly shave. She knew his face as well as her own and better than anyone else's. How many class periods had she wasted staring dreamily at him from across the room, cheek cradled in her palm, pencil tapping listlessly against her notebook? Enraptured and blissful she pulled back – just for a moment – to look down at him and remind herself why she loved him.

Only, instead of his adorably befuddled hazel gaze she saw heated whiskey eyes looking back at her with hazy confusion. She stifled a gasp of horror and sat further away. Puck looked back at her, reaching for her, and reality flooded in. Finn was at football practice and he was dating his pregnant, popular girlfriend. Scrambling, she moved away from Puck, searching for a reason.

"I can't do this."


	2. vanilla and Noah

A/N: So here is part two. This was originally only going to be one chapter, but this chapter just wrote itself so I had to add it. Hope you like the end! Also, this two-shot short story serves as a sort of prologue to my upcoming multi-chapter Puckleberry that I have not yet titled. Hopefully I'll have chapter one up soon! Thanks for reading, and don't forget to review!

~Shiloh

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><p>"Your sweetheart? He's been lying to you. 'Cause he and I totally got it on last year." The look on her face was pure spite. When Rachel had confronted her, asking what her problem was, she had never expected this. She and Santana were always locking horns about something, they were never friends in the truest sense of the word, but she had thought they were beyond the pure meanness the other girl was now displaying.<p>

The world was falling down around her ears and a dull roaring started in her head. Everything slowed down to this moment – when everything she thought was true suddenly changed and all she was left with was an ache in her chest. Her eyes went to Finn, begging him to say something, to deny what had just happened – but he was staring at the floor, avoiding her eyes. Mr. Schuester was saying something in the background, and she knew she had been upset for some reason, but all she could think about now were the damning words Santana had spoken.

"_...that's not what you said in the motel room last year."_ Motel room? A seedy, common motel and Finn with Santana. She couldn't think, couldn't function. Her world had just crumbled to pieces and the one thing she thought they'd really shared, the one thing she thought was theirs and theirs alone, was gone.

A kiss. It was just a flirty air kiss from several feet away, but he watched her. He gave her a look of surprise but it should have been disgust. Should have been anything but what it was.

"Did I tell you he bought me dinner after?"

Malice. What had she done to earn such malice from someone she thought that was, if not her friend, at least not her enemy? Her mind was whirling and she couldn't process anything just then. All she could see was that flirtatious action, generated not from interest but from some ugly desire to see Rachel suffer. _Lied to me, lied to me._ It echoed through her mind and was the impetus of the spinning hurricane of thoughts and feelings.

Then a warm hand on her shoulder pulled her from the maelstrom and a deep voice asking if she was okay made her turn. It was the last person she had been expecting to see – even Quinn would have been more likely to ask that question. And the actual look of genuine concern on his features confused her.

"Why are you talking to me? Are you going to steal something from me?" A smile split his features and she remembered for a moment why she had dated him, albeit briefly, in the first place. Besides her desperate hope that it would make Finn jealous. She was distracted for that small moment and missed most of the crazy story he was spinning, but she caught the end of it. His promise to be nice to Jews. She remembered him calling her pretty.

"It's Finn."

"Boyfriend troubles. I got that covered. Considering I'm usually the cause of them, I'd say I'm an expert. Walk with me." He actually offered her his arm. Curious about where this was leading, she looped her arm through his, placing her hand on his bicep as they started down the hallway. It felt nice, being this close to someone; she couldn't remember the last time Finn had pulled her close just to walk down the hall. She remembered him doing it though – Puck. Ex, occasional champion, occasional torturer. It had only been a week, they had no staying power – mostly because they were both in love with other people – and it had been over so quickly. But she remembered this; walking down the hall with him, his possessive arm around her and the easy physical contact he often initiated. He had never pushed her away, never called her clingy. It seemed like he liked it; liked having her, his girl, want to be as close to him as he she could.

"Have you been working out?" Her eyes grew larger for a moment after she heard herself say it. Word vomit created by the storm of emotions. All filters, apparently, were off. "Your arm seems bigger." She continued, wincing. There was a funny look on his face, part confusion and part calculation that she missed, looking at the floor so he couldn't see the blush on her cheeks. He mumbled something in reply but she didn't hear him, just gripped his arm as he lead her out of the school.

"I guess I should ask if _you're _okay," she said. "You still smell like a porta-potty."

"Yeah – I'm cool. I mean, it sucked and all, but hey, we got our twelfth member, right?"

"Yeah." Her answer was small and she glanced away. He stopped their progression halfway to his truck and looked down at her. _Really_ looked at her. She looked ready to burst into tears at any moment.

"Rachel – let me take you home."

She swiped her eyes. "No, it's all right. I'm – I'm sure you need to get home and cleaned up."

"I've got extra clothes in the truck. Come on, I'll take you home." She nodded, her eyes scrunching tight as she fought back the tears and he put his arm around her waist, pulling her quickly toward the parking lot. He bundled her into the truck and then hopped in, turning the key over and peeling out of the lot. She huddled against the door, her hand pressed against her mouth. Puck glanced over at her every few seconds, for once leaving the music turned down to background noise instead of screaming. She emitted a few pathetic whimpers and he could see the tears leaking out the corners of her eyes. They came to a stoplight and he reached across the truck, grabbed her arm, and hauled her up against him.

Rachel didn't care that he still smelled horrible, like sweat and a porta-potty, she just needed the close contact he had afforded her. A warm body to curl up against and hold onto. He drove with one hand, the other around her shoulders rubbing her back as she cried as quietly as she could into his chest. It took them nearly twenty minutes to reach her house – she lived on the opposite side of town from the school. He pulled into her driveway and put the truck in park. Rachel sat up, drying her eyes and slid across the seat, getting out of the truck. Puck reached behind the seat to grab his duffel and followed her up the sidewalk to her front door. She pulled her keys out, unlocked the door, and left it open for him to close behind him.

He didn't think twice, just followed her up the stairs to her bedroom. She sat on the edge of her bed, sitting on her hands, staring at the floor. He stood looking down at her, one hand holding his duffel down by his side and the other in his pocket. For a long minute they stayed like that, silent. Finally he broke the quiet.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She shook her head no, still not speaking. He shrugged and kicked off his shoes before walking into her bathroom. If she cried again, he couldn't hear it over the sound of the shower and the ceiling fan.

When he came out of the shower, smelling like her vanilla body wash and wearing fresh clothes, she was sitting cross legged on the end of her bed flipping through a magazine. She looked up when he dropped his duffel on the floor beside his shoes, which she had arranged neatly on the floor; heels flush against the base of the bed. He thought for one split second that they almost looked like they belonged there. Puck shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and stared back at her. After a long, silent, moment, she stood. They were much closer than before, only bare inches separating their bodies. She was so much shorter than him, just barely reaching his shoulder, and he realized again how tiny she was. Rachel was a force of nature, and her presence when she performed was larger than life. Sometimes he forgot how small she was and how delicate.

"Are you okay?" He asked her. She shook her head – not hard, just a small shake that spoke of the depths of her hurt. Right, stupid question.

"No. Well – I'm fine. I was just surprised, I guess, that he lied to me."

"Look, Finn's stupid, we all know that. But I don't think he meant to hurt you. You know, he's a good guy, really."

"But he did hurt me." Puck had no answer to that – it was true. When she swayed toward him, he didn't even think, he just put his arms around her and pulled her into him. Her hands landed on his chest and she was looking up at him with her dark, chocolate eyes. For a moment, he could have sworn she was the most beautiful girl in the world.

She was looking up at him and thinking about the abyss of pain in her heart and the churning sickness in her stomach. She wanted Finn to suffer, wanted him to feel the awful, crushing pain that she did. Looking up at Puck she saw something in his whiskey gaze that made her feel powerful.

Her voice was soft and a little shaky. "You smell really nice."

"It's your girly shit."

Then they were kissing and neither was quite sure who had started it. But then one of his hands was throwing her magazine on the floor and lifting her up so that her legs wrapped around his waist. Her hair was a curtain around their faces and her hands were pulling him closer. They fell onto the bed and his hands were running up and down her side, his thumb teasing the edge of her breast. His fingers ran through her hair, pushing it back from her face and his palm curved around the back of her head, pressing her lips to his. Their world was touch and feel and the sensation of lips meeting and tongues tangling. Her breath was warm and she made a small sound in the back of her throat that drove him wild.

Holding himself above her on his elbows, Puck kissed down her jaw to her neck. He remembered how much she liked it when he kissed her neck. Without pausing to think about why he would remember that he teased the sensitive spot just below her ear.

"Noah." She said his name breathlessly and the sound of it had him pulling back to look down at her. Her hair was tousled and her eyes opened very slowly to look back at him. No one had called him Noah, except his mother, since he had dated Rachel. No one ever called him Noah – not even teachers. He was Puck to his friends and Mr. Schu, Puckerman to everyone else.

But he remembered the first time Rachel called him Noah; they were sitting Glee Club, he had just sang "Sweet Caroline" for her, and she had leaned toward him to whisper in his ear. _"That was amazing, Noah."_ Later he had asked her why she called him Noah and she had looked at him as if the answer should have been obvious. _"Because it's your name. I can't call my boyfriend by his last name."_ Somehow he hadn't minded – no one else had ever been allowed to call him that, but the way she looked at him when she said it, even when she was breaking up with him, had made him feel special.

He didn't voice any of that aloud. Thinking about it too hard, saying it out loud, would make things emotional – and Noah Puckerman didn't do emotion. There was no way he was inviting that into this. This was just making out. This was just – this was just them, alone in her room. He leaned down and started kissing her again. She was just a girl, hurting because her boyfriend had lied, and he was there to comfort her.

Puck pulled back again. _Her boyfriend._ He had sworn he would never do this to Finn again, but one look into her melting chocolate eyes and he had forgotten about anyone else. She asked him what was wrong and he hated that she thought she had done something wrong.

"I did this to Finn once before – I can't do it again." The full weight of what she was doing crashed down around her, he could see it in her eyes as he hovered over her, only a few inches away. He could make her forget, he knew he could. He could make her stop thinking about Finn and he could make this about something different. But he knew that in the cold light of dawn she would remember and he would remember and Finn would get hurt again.

"I'm sorry, I have to go." He rolled off of her, grabbed his things and ran down the stairs before he could change his mind. As he started his truck he took one last look up at her window, and part of him hoped she'd be looking back. But she wasn't. Throwing his truck into reverse he pulled out of her driveway and started back across town, his side of town.

Rachel heard the front door slam and his truck start up. She heard him pull out and away and she thought of going to the window to watch him leave. But she'd already seen enough of his back – when he'd ran down the hall just moments before. When he'd walked away from her, leaving her sitting alone on the bleachers with her hand outstretched toward him. She curled up into a ball, pulling her pillow to her and letting the tears flow again. It smelled like vanilla and Noah and she wasn't sure who the tears were for.


End file.
